Carole Two mrowled for her breakfast. I shook my head and yawned. ‘OK, OK.’ Mom was already out. I fed the cat, dressed and got moving. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck and the sandman. In that order. It was going to be one long day. My body was bruised and scraped from what might or might not have been an accidental fall on a hard flight of steps. I hadn’t had three hours’ sleep.
I still hadn’t figured out whether Cody was clumsy or dangerous – or both. And I didn’t know where he’d been at the time of Lisa Willoughby’s murder. I was keeping him near the top of my list of suspects. I admittedly had absolutely no motive I could attach to him but I was putting him there anyway. Besides, he was younger than me and drove a snazzy new Corvette. He deserved to be on the list.
The only good news was that I had borrowed Mom’s Bug and returned it unscathed with her none the wiser. I guess all that yoga made her a good sleeper. I rode my bike through the quiet predawn streets, nothing but the hum of my Schwinn’s tires rolling along the pavement. I parked the bike in the café storeroom, grabbed an apron and the few supplies I could carry and started over to Table Rock Town Square on foot.
The lights were on across the street at Karma Koffee. That meant I’d probably be having predawn company – Trish and Rob Gregory. I’d have preferred Vampira and the Wolf Man. Heck, I’d have preferred my dead ex-husband, Brian.
Laura was waiting for me when I arrived. The whole square was buzzing with early birds setting up their tents for the weekend event. Strings of soft white lights were strung along the rooflines of each tent, giving the square a festive, holiday appearance. Samantha Higgins, the Labor of Love chairperson was conspicuously absent. Next year maybe I could chair the event and sleep in late too.
Laura smiled and lofted a steaming paper cup of coffee as I approached.
‘Merry Labor of Love,’ I said, stuffing a frown away. Laura’s cup was a medium-sized Karma Koffee to-go cup. To make matters worse she had one of their muffins on a Karma Koffee-branded paper tray in her left hand. Crumbs clung to her glossy lower lip. Moist, delicious, succulent, flaky crumbs … I steeled myself.
Laura ran her tongue along her lips. ‘You made it.’
I yawned and set my supplies on the tabletop. ‘I see you’ve been busy.’ I hugged her. ‘Thanks for coming.’ I waved my hand over the table. ‘And for bringing all this.’
Laura nodded. ‘I didn’t sleep much after—’ She cast a glance toward Rob and Trish Gregory lingering nearby. ‘You know, last night.’
‘Same here,’ I admitted. I had a feeling I should know who’d broken into Lisa’s condo, but the answer wasn’t coming to me. Somebody with a ponytail. Helpful, but not very. That could mean anybody from a six-year-old in pigtails to half the hippies in Table Rock.
Houston and Irwin both agreed that this guy said he was looking for something. The big question was what? Was there something Lisa had that was worth stealing? TV, jewelry? If I could figure out what I might figure out who.
‘Did anything happen after I left your place?’
‘No.’ Laura set down her coffee and muffin. My fingers twitched toward it. ‘It was quiet downstairs the rest of the night.’ She yawned. ‘Thankfully. You know,’ Laura said, arranging items on the tabletop, ‘I can’t help wondering if those two didn’t make up the whole burglar thing.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Why do you say that?’
I pulled a face. ‘You’ve seen those two.’ I sidled over to the table, my back to Laura’s coffee and muffin. What was that? Pumpkin-maple? With a drizzle of icing on top? I love pumpkin-maple.
Laura’s brow arched.
‘You think they’re smart enough to invent a story like that and,’ I said, holding up my hand to stop her retort, ‘keep their stories straight the whole time?’ My hand snaked behind my back like it had a mind of its own.
Laura grinned. ‘I guess not.’
‘I know not. And I keep wondering what this mystery man that Houston and Irwin saw was up to. Maybe Lisa kept a secret journal.’ I could feel the half-devoured muffin now; my fingertips crawled along its crumbling side.
‘Maybe,’ Laura agreed. Her hand suddenly shot behind me and snatched up the muffin. I watched it go down her throat in two bites. She held out the remaining sliver in her fingertips. ‘Did you want some?’
‘No,’ I sighed. ‘You finish it.’
Laura nodded, swallowed and licked her fingers. ‘Where would you like the fryer?’
We adjusted the deep fryer on the center of the table and I laid the drip tray to the right. ‘Who knew what secrets it might hold?’ I added a jug of oil to the well of the twin fryer basket appliance.
‘What might hold?’
‘Lisa Willoughby’s secret journal. Like maybe the key to her killer. Did Houston say anything about Lisa keeping a diary?’
Laura shook her head. ‘Not that he mentioned to me.’
‘Could you ask him?’ I snatched some paper cups from a box on the grass and set them near the three coffee urns.
Laura groaned. ‘I’d rather not.’
I turned to grab an electric cord off the lawn and bumped into Rob Gregory, who had his hand on the same cord. Rob and Trish, in matching khaki trousers and green polo shirts, snarled and said, ‘You’re late with the rent on your apartment again, Miller!’ In unison, no less.
‘I know, I know.’ I tugged at the cord. ‘Do you mind?’ Rob and his wife, Trish, are a discouragingly handsome couple who act like a couple of love-struck teenagers around one another. They were young, tan, fit and prosperous.
The Gregorys weren’t keen on having my beignet café across the street from their own established coffee and bakery. Then again, it hadn’t seemed to be putting a dent in their business. Rob has short, wavy brown hair with sun-bleached streaks at the temples that fall casually around his rectangular face. His hairline seems to be slowly receding, but other days I feel like it’s halfway down his forehead, moving in and out like the tide.
Trish’s hair is two shades darker and much longer, hanging down to her shoulders. Light freckles dusted the bridge of her nose. Karma Koffee-branded visors completed their look. I’d forgotten my visor at the café. Maybe I’d send Aubrey back for it later.
Aubrey had been working for the Gregorys when I’d met her. She’d asked me for a job. I couldn’t afford to hire her but neither could I afford to say no and miss out on a chance to stick it to my competition slash landlords.
‘This one’s ours,’ Rob replied, pulling back on the electric cable. ‘That’s yours.’ He pointed his free hand toward an orange coiled cord under my table.
‘Fine.’ I had one more day before the late fee kicked in on the apartment rent – let them wait. Caitie Conklin’s Salon de Belezza booth on the opposite side was still dark and empty. I guess she figured nobody wanted a trim at six a.m.
She was right.
And maybe I’d picked the wrong business to go into. Maybe I should have opened a salon. I’d worked in one for years, after all.
The big corner tent occupied by The Hitching Post, on the other hand, was abuzz with activity. Bright spotlights burned holes in the darkness and a half-dozen workers were bustling to the orders of Clive and Johnny. Looked like it was going to be a busy day for the guys.
I’d left instructions for Mom and Kelly. They’d be operating the café while Aubrey and I ran things at the tent. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a lumbering figure in a loose white shirt and baggy jeans heading my way. My heart jumped. ‘Oh, no,’ I moaned as the shadowy figure took shape, looking more like a zombie straight out of the Living Dead. ‘Brian,’ I sighed, ‘what are you doing here?’
My dead ex-husband’s face lit up in a hundred-watt smile. He thrust his hands in his back pockets. ‘I had a delivery.’ He jerked his thumb toward the truck at the curb: Miller Transport. I should have spotted it earlier. Oh, well.
‘Dry goods and soda for this Labor of Love thing. Plus I got a monthly contract with MacHobb’s Aerospace Manufacturing over in Prescott. Pickup at Phoenix International Airport and drop off at their facility.’ He spun his head around. ‘Looks like it’s going to be quite a shindig.’
‘It’s not a shindig,’ I replied. ‘It’s a charity event.’ And it looked like Brian would be in the vicinity monthly. Wonderful. Not.
‘What-ev.’ Brian smiled at Laura. ‘Who’s this?’
I scowled. ‘This is my friend, Laura Duval.’
Laura held out her hand.
I saw him glance at her ring finger. ‘Unmarried, I see.’
‘Yeah, but you aren’t,’ I interjected. ‘How’s the new wife?’
Laura and I exchanged a look. ‘Pleased to meet you, Brian,’ she said.
‘Wait till you get to know him better,’ I mumbled.
Brian shook his head. ‘Aren’t you ever going to let go, Mags?’
I hate it when anybody calls me Mags. And only Brian does it. ‘Aren’t you ever going to go home?’ I retorted. ‘To your wife and stepkids?’
Brian dropped Laura’s hand. ‘Don’t mind her. She’s always cranky in the morning. Speaking of which,’ his eyes bounced along the table, ‘got any coffee ready? Maybe a beignet or three?’ he asked hopefully, patting his stomach.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘We won’t be ready for at least half an hour. I expect you’ll be halfway home to Phoenix by then.’
Brian shook his head. ‘I’m staying the day. The wife’s busy with the kids at her folks’ house in Scottsdale so I thought I’d hang out.’ He sidled between Laura and me. ‘If you have some free time later maybe we can hang out together.’
‘Sure,’ I said, giving Brian a shove in the opposite direction, ‘why don’t you go wait for me? Like at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.’